


A Series of Small Sacrifices

by TeaRoses



Category: Silent Hill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 12:36:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaRoses/pseuds/TeaRoses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The papers are a chronicle of horrors, a series of small sacrifices no more or less ridiculous than the stories of the cold ghosts in this tiny trapped space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Series of Small Sacrifices

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "piece by piece by piece" at the 31_days community on LiveJournal.

Another square of perfect blood crawls under the doorspace and Henry adds it to the rest on the table. The papers are a chronicle of horrors, a series of small sacrifices no more or less ridiculous than the stories of the cold ghosts in this tiny trapped space.

He has stopped reading them now. They have lost meaning. But he turns the papers over, arranges them on the table, and that reveals yet another message.

HENRY DON'T GO OUT I AM COMING IN

The hands reach for him first, from nowhere -- but everything is nowhere now. They grip his neck from behind and Henry doesn't even bother turning around to see the one he knows is there. He just lets the shudders wrack his body and the gooseflesh cover his skin, grips the table before him and watches as the papers scramble themselves and the words change.

HAVE YOU BEEN WAITING FOR ME?

Now the fingers and calloused palms reach under his shirt to stroke his chest and belly, producing further chills and a cold surge of lust. Henry's repulsion is dulled and abstracted; the body now covering his back is his reality or at least his existence.

There is breath against his cheek, a low dark chuckle in his ear, and a leg wraps around his to steady him as the hands strike him, hurting, gripping the hardness of his crotch until he clenches his lips together to stifle a cry. Then the teeth sink into his neck.

ARE YOU READY?

The last thing he feels is the knife, metal parting his flesh with a searing pain through his back and neck. He falls to the blood-soaked carpet, seeing no sign of the one who has sacrificed him.

Blackness is an inevitable relief, and Henry pretends that he will never wake up in his own bed, mysteriously whole and anticipating more. When he does he will pretend that he doesn't see what is coming in through the walls. For now he squeezes his eyes shut and tells himself that death exists.

SLEEP WELL HENRY


End file.
